


Secret Sauce

by RootCellar



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Long Strange Trip AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-14 06:11:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5732302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RootCellar/pseuds/RootCellar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Only the best ingredients.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secret Sauce

“You know, none of this is your fault. Not really.”

The sound of fabric tearing fills the room and you stifle a whimper.

“It’s just… How things are. I won’t make any excuses for it, it’s certainly a bad thing we’re doing and we know it. Just remember that it’s for the kids, though. That’s what I do.”

A moment passes, the foreboding silence before dire peril. A lance of pain surges and all you can do is scream.

“Easy, easy! All done for now. I mean, that’s not even the worst part. Just be glad for the breather, ok? Sit tight, I have to go get the tape.”

It shuffles away in an awkward pattern of clinking and scraping, leaving you with silence; you are thoroughly restrained and alone. The chains rattle to corroborate the assessment. And fuck does your arm itch. You really can’t recall how you ended up in this predicament, or why they would even bother. You were nobody special. Petty thoughts flee as you hear the thing making its way back, the unmistakable plodding and clanking growing louder as it approaches.

“I’ve got it. I don’t think this’ll do you much good, really, but he says it’s what we have to do. What can I say? I’m a born follower. He says to try to focus on his voice as things progress. Says it will help. I’m telling you right now it won’t, but hey, it’s not gonna kill ya to try, eh?”

It clucks as it approaches, the sound a mixture of laughter and wheeze. Metallic tittering bounds from the walls as it prepares something out of sight.

“Gotta blindfold you now, alright? You’ll squirm too much if you see what’s coming. Trust me, I know.”

The gray strip rushes toward you everything goes dark. You register a soft click somewhere nearby and the low, mechanical warble of a cassette tape begins to croon. A saccharine, lilting tune fills the room. It’s hard not to vomit.

\-------------

“Greetings, Explorer! All set for your adventure? Of course you are! Why, you wouldn’t be human if you didn’t possess that keen sense of wonder, that innate wanderlust that comprises the human spirit. Confused? Well, we can’t have that, now, can we? Mr. Faz wants to make sure eeeeeeeverybody is on board with the program here at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria! You might be wondering, “Hey, guy on the tape, why am I tied up like this? This kinda hurts!” Not to worry, friend! It’s all part of the plan.”

The voice is overly exuberant. Nauseously so. And it sounds too familiar.

“You were carefully selected for this most sacred task, so you should feel special! Honored, even! Because of you, scores of children hailing from all over the world will be enriched both physically *and* spiritually! It’s a win-win scenario for everybody!”

You do not feel like a winner.

“As was already mentioned, you were specifically chosen for this little trip due to your unique economic and social position in this crazy cockamamie civilization of ours. Not everyone fits the bill, but you? Oh, you’re special all right. Only the best ingredients!”

Talk of food isn’t helping the nausea, and the nonsense about ingredients is just that. You can occasionally hear a grinding noise amidst the overly dramatic speech, somewhere nearby.

“Before we go any further, let's you and I take a spin on the ‘way back,’ machine.” 

You’d really rather not.

“Lets travel back to a less happy time, where Freddy Fazbear’s Fine Dining Establishment and Entertainment Emporium wasn’t doing so well.” 

The grinding ceases, but a squelching sound soon replaces it. It’s an irritating noise, like balloons being rubbed together fiercely. Your brain feels itchy just hearing it. And so does your back where the thing stabbed you.

“Saaaaaaaad times for everybody, but Mr. Faz most of all! See, he just couldn’t understand why kids and parents alike didn’t want to come around to have some fun with the gang.”

This tape must be ancient; wasn’t Faz an old man when this place first started? Shit, you were pretty sure he died a bunch of years back.

“So our dear old Mr. Faz took a trip. He traveled the world, saw the sights, and met some fantastic people with incredible ideas. You could say it was quite an eye-opening experience, haha! Sorry, the blindfold has to stay on. But anyway, our beloved Mr. Faz came into contact with a few interesting fellows that most people thought weren’t around anymore! Had positively died off, vanished into the annals of history!”

You’d be bored if you weren’t held hostage with an aggravated stab wound. The shuffling is still happening in the next room. That thing is doing… Something out there.

“But not so! They, with their incredible knowledge and understanding of the true nature of the world, had endeavored to remain hidden, waiting for the day that an enterprising individual like the fantastic Mr. Faz could put their knowledge to good use!”

Fascinating. Really. You wish they’d just kill you and get it over with rather than subjecting you to this mental torture. The anticipation of whatever they’re intending has had your heart hammering at your rib cage for a while now. The urgency is becoming painful in a very real way.

“And boy, did he! You’re probably saying to yourself, “Say, the business seems to be booming! I don’t even remember the hard times the guy on the tape is talking about.” Well, that’s because the noble Mr. Faz put those ideas to work, first and foremost by fixing up our pizza!”

You still weren’t seeing a point, but maybe there wasn’t one. A robotic chicken chained you up and blindfolded you. You might be a fucking nutter. Who could say?

“You see, Market conditions had forced our poor benefactor into a perplexing conundrum: he couldn’t stay profitable and keep the dream alive with the finest ingredients in toppings, but if he lowered the quality of those components he’d lose customers! And that would be catastrophic! Believe me, it was. That’s why he went on that long trip, after all.”

It’s like the tape knew you never went to college and decided to mock you for it. You don’t appreciate the oversimplification. If they were going to torture you the least they could do would be to respect you. Unless this was all just a manic episode, of course. Then you’d have no one but yourself to blame.

“Sorry, sorry! I’m getting off-topic. So the inscrutable Mr. Faz put that knowledge to work and found the best, most delicious ingredient there is: you! Yes, that’s right, you! Mr. Faz discovered the secret truth of the world - success and happiness are built on the misery of others. It’s a bonafide fact! No getting around it! A little misery is all it takes to make a proper marinade, and *boy* does it taste great!”

What.

“The enigmatic Mr. Faz had learned the ugly truth of the world, and rather than run away from it, he embraced it. An ounce of despair for a pound of fulfillment.”

The speaker’s tone darkened, and now you recognize it as the hiring manager. Bastard. 

“See he… He doesn’t want to do this, friend. But he has to. He has to make the hard decisions. He has to… Has to stick around longer than the rest of us. To see it through. It’s a necessary sacrifice. For us. For the kids.”

Your heart was protesting louder than before, the pounding in sync with the pain in your skull. Everything was starting to hurt.

“This tape is a mercy. It’s all I can give you, and I’m really sorry. I’m terribly, woefully sorry. I really am. You have no idea… No idea how sorry I really am. Really. You’ll just have to take my word for it. The others were so alone and I couldn’t let it happen again. Everyone deserves a companion at the end.”

Pain erupts in your back as something sharp and hollow is jammed in. It takes a few moments to realize you’re screaming again. 

“You’re probably in terrible pain by now. All I can tell you is that it does end, eventually. If that’s of any real comfort to you. Mr. Faz really does know best. Truly. I hope you can believe that!”

You can hear it faintly over top your own dull moans and the cloying tone of your erstwhile narrator: a dripping, gulping noise. Like rainwater in a basin.

“You’re going to leave this world having provided a tremendous good. You’re contributing to the betterment of today’s youth and the continued success of the establishment. It’s all he cares about, after all. Nothing else. The children are his intense and unrelenting focus to the exclusion of all other mortal concerns. May God forgive us all.”

You feel something tear across your wrists but it feels distant. Plop plop plop.

“I don’t want this. I swear I don’t but… He does. He frightens me to the point where I would do this to a man. He really shouldn’t be alive, did you know that? So old. So very, very old.”

Despite it all, something in you finds comfort in the pitiful companionship you’ve been provided. You feel your consciousness shifting, your thoughts washing through a sieve. Splish splash.

“You’ll live on, in a roundabout way. I’d say I’m envious but… That would be just one more lie. And you know what the most messed up part is? The most heinous thing of all?”

Everything is faint, just static on the end of a conversation. There’s not much left to drain. Drip drip.

“Despite it all I just can’t stop eating this fucking pizza.”


End file.
